Yara sat on her cot, the dim light of the flickering candle casting shadows across her face. She stared at the closed door, replaying Imar's words over and over in her mind. Each repetition twisted the knife of guilt deeper into her heart. She had to make things right.
She pushed herself off the cot and walked down the narrow corridor of Imar's place. From the outside, it seemed like a small space with two to three rooms max but there was actually a concealment spell on it that hid the numerous rooms from unwanted eyes.
These kinds of spells fell under heat/spatial magic anc were similar to the one the dragon used to make her initial satchel fit in the eggs and gems.
Once again, Yara envied those who could use different magic styles as opposed to her healing abilities.
As she approached the door, she hesitated. What if he was still angry? What if he didn't want to see her? She shook her head, dismissing the doubts. They needed to talk.
